


Red Penned

by monimala



Category: The Young and the Restless
Genre: F/M, Polyamory, Polyandry, So Wrong It's Right, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-07
Updated: 2017-11-07
Packaged: 2019-01-30 21:46:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12662052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monimala/pseuds/monimala
Summary: Her boys. Her men. She loves them both equally and differently. “I'm already there. You already share me. Why not take it to the bedroom? Make it official.”Yes, this is exactly what it sounds like: a fic in which Phyllis and her Abbott boys get it on. Sorry not sorry.





	Red Penned

It takes them years to get there. Years of push-pull and banter and will-they/won't they. Phyllis is the one who lays it all out, so to speak. Entirely accidentally. She's tipping back her second beer, enjoying the Milwaukee microbrew Billy keeps stashed in the fridge even when he's not living with her. He and Jack are arguing about something or other. Something inconsequential. There's more fondness in it than there is anger. But, still, she can't help herself. She swallows, sets down her bottle and says with a sigh, “If you're always going to keep me between you, maybe I should actually _be_ between you.”

It’s only after she puts it out into the universe that she realizes it’s more than a tired wisecrack. It's actually a brilliant idea — and one that's not at all new to her. It catches both men completely off-guard. Jack's ice-blue eyes widen. Billy chokes on his own beer. “Wh-what?” he sputters, just as his older brother draws on decades of patrician snobbery to ask, “I beg your pardon?”

She could blame it on the drinking. But she's only had two, and the percentage isn't high enough to do much damage. So she powers through it, looking at them each in turn. Her boys. Her men. She loves them both equally and differently. “I'm already there. You already share me. Why not take it to the bedroom? Make it official.”

Billy gets on board first. Easily. The bulge in his jeans and the gleam in his eye hearken to all the filthy things he and Phyllis have done in that loft — on that couch — and to the stories she's told him about her and Michael and Lauren before the kids were born. But Jack has to be coaxed, eased into it. Like the lubed finger crooked against his prostate that makes him come harder than anything else. He tries so hard to hold on to his veneer of respectability, shifting in his chair, blushing, starting sentences and letting them trail off.

“Red...”

Technically blonde now, but why change a good nickname? Phyllis leans forward and takes his hand. A little frailer than it used to be. He's a hale, hardy, 65 — as virile as ever — but the last thing they need is a sex-induced heart attack. “Only if you want to,” she assures, softly.

“ _You_ want to.” It's a statement, not a question. Made with something like awe.

Yes. If she's honest with herself, with these men that she loves, she can acknowledge that the need has always been there. She's gotten off to the fantasy thousands of times. Imagined Jack barging in when she's with Billy. Or Billy climbing into bed behind her while she's with Jack. So many years of loving her separately, of trading her back and forth, brought swiftly and passionately to a close. Why can't that fantasy be a reality? If Jack can come to her fresh from his fairy-tale cabin with Nikki, asking for things the stripper turned society matron doesn't do anymore, why can't Phyllis have her cake and eat it, too?

Just the thought of it changes the energy in the room, makes the air heavier. She undoes the top two buttons of her dress, presses her legs together under the tight skirt. “What’s it going to be?” she asks.

Jack and Billy trade a long look. The silent, secret language of siblings. Perhaps negotiating how to make this happen without their dicks touching. Without it being too taboo. Billy's voice is thick with desire, nearly hoarse, when he says, “I'm game if you are.” Billy Abbott is always game. It's one thing that can always be counted on. Like the sunrise and the tide. He won't say no to restraints, to candle wax, to pegging...or to sharing a woman with his older brother.

At some point they decamp to the bedroom. Jack pops a pill with his beer, so his body can catch up with the filthy mind he won't admit to, and Phyllis rewards him with an open-mouthed kiss. Despite his enthusiasm, Billy makes a possessive sound low in his throat. She censures him with one sharp glance. This is about the very opposite of jealousy. It won't work if they can't share. And it won't work if Jack isn't assured of his place. He was her husband. He had her first. He's the stately lion to Billy's wild tiger. He kisses her back with the same understanding, hands stroking her upper arms, her shoulders, her throat.

“I love you,” she tells him. And then she turns and looks at Billy again. No chiding this time. Only affection. “And I love you, too.”

They’re so different. One dark and one fair. One toeing off the white running shoes he wears with everything, the other slipping out of expensive loafers. Phyllis doesn’t strip for them, she strips _with_ them, tugging at Jack’s tie and making short work of Billy’s shirt.

It happens slowly that first time together. A little awkward. A lot of check-ins. Phyllis straddling Jack's lap as he leans against the headboard. Billy cradling her, knees on either side, trying so hard not to graze his brother's thighs as he nudges inside her. She revels in it, and her lovers go along for the ride. They kiss her everywhere. Touch her everywhere. Only flinching away when their fingertips meet on her skin. _Relax_ , she wants to tell them. _It doesn’t make you wrong, it just makes you mine_. But she’s too blissed-out to speak, slammed down onto Jack’s cock every time Billy thrusts in from behind. Caught between the tempest and the storm. Exactly where she wants to be. Over and over and over again. There are a lot of condoms. They use an ocean of lube. And their words. All of their words. “Yes,” and “harder,” and “right there,” and “forever.”

It takes them years to get there. It only takes one night to make them stay.

 

-end--

 


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